


A Filthy Little Habit

by eeyore9990



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Creeper!Derek, Inappropriate Behavior, Lurker!Derek, M/M, Masturbation, Possible Dub-Con, Rimming, Scent as sex device, Sex Toys, So incredibly not sorry, What else was he gonna do with all that free time?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with sneaking through Stiles' bedroom window was that it was attached to Stiles' <i>bedroom</i>.</p><p>The problem with that, of course, was that it smelled like Stiles, and what Stiles predominantly smelled like was sex.  Since Derek knew for a fact that Stiles was still a virgin, what Stiles really smelled like was actually his <i>own</i> sex.  With himself.  Stiles smelled like his own spunk.</p><p>All. The. Time.</p><p>(Edit: Complete. Again. Look, Stiles wanted his dildo back, okay?  Who's gonna say no to that??  Not me.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Derek's Downfall

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the result of reading like five fics in a row featuring Derek waiting for Stiles in his bedroom. So, yeah. Also, it's been a million fandom years since I wrote porn, so getting my feet wet again.

The thing about the Sheriff not knowing about all the supernatural shit that had been besieging Beacon Hills for the past year was that when Derek needed to talk to Stiles, he had to sneak through his bedroom window. The problem with sneaking through Stiles' bedroom window was that it was attached to Stiles' _bedroom_.

And Stiles was hardly ever considerate enough to be waiting in his bedroom when Derek stopped by unannounced. Which meant Derek would have to wait for him. Sometimes for hours.

_In Stiles' bedroom_.

The problem with that, of course, was that it smelled like Stiles, and what Stiles predominantly smelled like was sex. Since Derek knew for a fact that Stiles was still a virgin, what Stiles really smelled like was actually his _own_ sex. With himself. Stiles smelled like his own spunk.

All. The. Time.

But usually, when Stiles was in public, or anywhere outside of his bedroom, his scent was muted by the smells of the day that clung to him: curly fries, candy, Scott, the musty smell of textbooks. Smelling his undiluted scent was a nightmare for Derek, who knew his own aroused reaction to Stiles' scent was wrong on every level imaginable, but.

He couldn't fucking convince his body of that.

The first time it had happened, Stiles had been especially inconsiderate and left Derek waiting in a _recently fragranced_ room for more than an hour while he watched some stupid shark documentary on TV with his dad. 

Stiles' dad. _The Sheriff_. The same one that had arrested Derek twice on suspicion of murder. Yeahhh. 

An hour into the documentary and Derek was bored enough to do something about the erection pressing against his zipper. An erection that was a constant companion during nights spent lying in wait for Stiles. Focusing on the sounds coming from the living room downstairs, Derek realized neither the Sheriff not Stiles were likely to move from the couch anytime soon.

With that being the case, he thumbed open the button on his jeans and eased his zipper down over his cock, being careful not to snag any delicate bits on the teeth. Just because he'd heal it didn't mean it wouldn't hurt like a bitch. 

Stepping over to Stiles' bed, Derek knelt on the soft surface and eased forward until he could bury his nose in the comforter, where the scent of Stiles was strongest. He snagged a couple of tissues from a strategically-placed box, one-handedly coated his palm in scent-free body lotion—from a pump bottle placed inches from the tissues—and slid it over the head of his cock before making a fist and thrusting into it.

Gritting his teeth against the need to moan, Derek flared his nostrils, soaking in the scent of Stiles. That plus the tight, slick grip of his hand had Derek shooting into the wad of tissues in mere minutes. Gasping and shaking, he backed off the bed again, being careful to make no sound. He gathered up the tissues and stuck them in his pocket, mindful of the fact that Scott visited regularly.

And leaving his own sex scent to mingle with Stiles' would not go very far in garnering Scott's trust.

*

It went on like that for another year. Through Alpha packs, Darachs, kelpies, and trolls. Not all the time, or even most of the time.

But sometimes?

Yeah, sometimes Derek rubbed one out in Stiles' room, on Stiles' bed, after sneaking through Stiles' window to wait for him. And the insane part was, Derek really didn't have to anymore. Go through the window, that was.

The Sheriff had been read into the supernatural madness, Derek was no longer suspect number one for every weird death in the city limits, and Stiles had mentioned more than once that Derek was welcome to use the front door. But after all this time, it was a _habit._

Or, you know, a filthy little addiction.

At least part of Derek's inner turmoil with his own creepy behavior—he occasionally wondered if he'd inherited it from Peter—disappeared when Stiles turned eighteen. It didn't make what he was doing better, by any means, but it made it slightly less likely he'd appear on any sexual offender registries. Assuming he got caught.

He didn't plan to get caught.

*

Derek lifted the window and crawled over the sill, letting the heavy, greedy scent that spoke of a recently masturbating Stiles rush over him. The room was empty, faint noises placing the house's occupants on the first floor.

Derek dropped into the desk chair, unconcerned when it rolled a few inches because his personal sense of calm was broken by... He frowned, sniffing heavily at the air. 

It was Stiles' scent, but there was a _tang_ to it that was unfamiliar and concentrated. Standing up again, Derek followed the scent around the bed and down to floor level before he saw it. Or rather, the tip of it.

Laying on the floor, the head protruding from under the bed's dust ruffle, was...Derek's downfall. 

The dildo was a dull red, but had been formed realistically with veins and a slightly curved head. The base flared out into the hint of testicles before stopping abruptly with a hand grip.

And it was _used._ He could smell Stiles all over it, and Derek's pulse skyrocketed at the realization of what the tangy scent was.

Derek dropped onto his back on Stiles' bed, groaning as he quickly freed his aching cock from his jeans. He didn't touch himself beyond that, knowing he was already too close to the edge, just from the knowledge of where the dildo had been. Had _recently_ been.

Flush with want, he lay back on Stiles' pillows and brought the dildo to his mouth. He didn't bother to tease himself, just opened up and slid it in, letting his tongue memorize the flavor that went with the smell.

It was fucking glorious. Sweet and spicy and _tangy_. Derek swallowed his own groans along with the undiluted _flavor_ of Stiles. His mouth watered so desperately that saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth every time he pulled the dildo out before thrusting it back in. In his mind's eye it was Stiles' ass he was thrusting it into, Stiles' cock the one splitting his lips obscenely wide.

He was lost in the moment, back arched, cock straining upward against _nothing_ , when the door opened. His hind-brain must have been prepared for the moment, because he was rolling off the bed onto his feet within the blink of an eye, the dildo held like a knife between himself and the intruder.

Not intruder.

_Stiles._

Stiles who was standing there, ridiculously beautiful mouth agape as he stared back at Derek. At _all_ of Derek, from his achingly hard cock, to his puffy, red mouth, to the dildo— _Stiles'_ dildo—Derek held pointed at him. The dildo that was shiny with the same spit that was dripping in a line down Derek's chin.

"This isn't what it looks like," Derek said in a rush of tortured words. And then wanted to stab his own eyes out with the dildo when Stiles' shock-wide gaze narrowed into a flat glare.

"Really? So what you're saying is, you weren't just deep throating my new sex toy while jerking off on my bed."

"I wasn't." And damn if that wasn't true. "I wasn't touching myself."

_Hello, honesty. Where the fuck did you come from?_

Stiles' gaze dropped to Derek's dick, which hadn't softened even a little bit at this turn of events. His eyes darkened before he licked his lips and said, voice raspy, "Why not?"

Derek realized he was still threatening Stiles with the dildo and let it drop to the bed as he tried to figure out that question. Unfortunately, his lust- and panic-addled brain just wasn't up to the task. "What?"

Shutting the door with a gentle push, Stiles raised his gaze to Derek's while gesturing at Derek's dick. "Why weren't you touching yourself?"

Before Derek could respond, Stiles went on, his tone lightly conversational. "See, I have a nice dick. I like my dick." He unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick and oh fuck.

It was, indeed, a very nice dick. Derek stared at it, salivating, as Stiles continued. 

"I have a hard time keeping my hands off my dick. I touch it _all the time_." As if demonstrating, he gave it a loving stroke.

Derek nodded dumbly, because he knew. Of course he knew Stiles touched himself. It was why Derek was in this position, after all.

"But my dick? It's just a nice dick."

Derek whined in the back of his throat, shaking his head. There was nothing _just_ about Stiles' cock. It was already Derek's favorite, and this was the first time he'd ever seen it.

Stiles continued to stalk slowly forward until he was walking on his knees across the bed. "But your dick? Is fucking _beautiful_. God, look at it. Like a masterpiece. If I had a dick like that? I'd worship it." Stiles was close, close enough to touch.

Derek found himself leaning forward, mesmerized by the sight of Stiles' fingers wrapped loosely around his cock, the sharp scent of his renewed arousal, the taste of him that lingered on Derek's tongue. He wanted to touch, taste, _take_.

But Stiles beat him to it.


	2. The First to Beg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this part. 
> 
> Also, please note that there is not explicit consent before Stiles touches Derek the first time. ~~I didn't label it dub-con, because in my head, it's kinda obvious that Derek is gagging for it. But if anyone thinks it's necessary, I will add a dub-con in the warnings. I don't want to trigger anyone.~~ Added it anyway, just to be safe.

Stiles edged closer, his hot eyes roaming over Derek, his tongue snaking out to lick over his lips. His scent filled Derek's nostrils, letting him know that this time, it was all for him.

It was too perfect. Too much like what Derek wanted, _had_ wanted for too long. Derek didn't get things he wanted, not without a cost that was too high.

Kate had taught him that.

The thought made Derek stumble back, one hand raised to ward off Stiles who was climbing down over the near side of the bed, back on his feet. _Too close._ "What are you...why aren't you yelling? Calling for your dad? Why do you act like you want this?"

Stiles stopped and looked at Derek with a small, confident grin curving his lips. "Do you think I'm surprised, Derek? Shocked?" His gaze darted to the side, his chin lifting over his shoulder so he could see the dildo laying like bagged and tagged evidence in the middle of his bed. "Okay, can't lie, that was a new one. But this? You coming in here all hard and wanting?"

Stiles stepped forward quickly, putting himself in Derek's space and using his hold on his dick to brush Derek's with it. They both hissed at the contact. Stiles' voice was sultry when he admitted, "I noticed that years ago. You'd be waiting for me here, a hulking mass of frustrated tension, your dick pushing up tight and hard against the front of your jeans. And you somehow think I _wouldn't_ notice? I notice everything about you, Derek. Everything."

Derek watched, unable to take his eyes away from Stiles' hand, as Stiles slid it forward to the tip of his cock and kept going, edging his loose fist over Derek's dick, lightly gripping him. They both sighed at the contact, Derek in defeat, Stiles in triumph.

"I know you'd come in here sometimes," Stiles said, licking his lips. "You'd wait a minute, listen. Listen for me, my dad, anyone else. And you'd wait just a little while longer before you'd climb on my bed and fuck your fist."

Derek sucked in a breath, head shaking, not in denial but bewilderment. He tried to ignore Stiles' hand, but his hips were hitching forward, pushing into Stiles' too loose grip, aching for more. "How...?"

Stiles' grin was smug. "Webcam. Set it up on a motion detector once when I couldn't sleep, and then basically forgot about it. One night, you came through the window, all wet. It must have been raining. I found the file a few days later. I watched you pace, dripping everywhere."

Stiles tightened his grip, jacking Derek once, fingers providing the perfect amount of pressure. "Like you're dripping now," he whispered and they both watched as a bead of precome spilled over and slid down the underside of Derek's dick. 

Derek let out a ragged breath, stomach clenching with need. 

"I watched all the time after that. I have a whole folder of porn staring you. I come so hard touching myself, watching you do the same. You're beautiful when you come." Stiles jacked Derek again, the precome making it that little bit smoother.

"You know," Stiles said, switching back to his unaffected conversational tone. "I've cleaned a lot of your blood out of this carpet over the years. A lot of mud from your boots." 

Derek ripped his gaze from Stiles' hand on his dick in an attempt to regain control. He looked back up into Stiles' eyes just in time for Stiles to smile and begin slowly sinking to his knees.

"I'm tired of cleaning up after you," Stiles said, one eyebrow quirking challengingly before he leaned forward, his parted lips hovering just the merest inch from the head of Derek's cock.

Warm breath rushed over him and Derek lost it. Pushing forward, he brushed his dick over Stiles' lips, groaning as they immediately turned shiny and wet. 

Stiles had the audacity to lick them then, and when he did, his tongue swept over Derek's slit, urging a few more drops of come to the surface.

Tired of being a docile participant, Derek lifted his hand and ran his fingers into the longer hair at the top of Stiles' head. Making a fist, he said, "If you don't want this, speak now."

"Shut up and fuck my mouth."

Gritting his teeth, he thrust forward, sliding his cock all the way into Stiles' mouth, not stopping until Stiles choked on it. He backed off, just enough to let Stiles recover, enough to find his own words with which to torment Stiles.

"I could smell you. All the time. Tonight was different. Tonight I smelled you on that toy, and I wanted to lick you off it. So I did."

Stiles' eyelids fluttered and he moaned. The vibration sent bolts of pleasure up Derek's spine and back down to roil in his gut. 

Derek saw Stiles move and watched his hand drop into his lap. With a hiss of displeasure, he yanked on Stiles' hair until his eyes opened again. 

"Hands off."

Stiles huffed through his nose, a sound that spoke of irritation, even as he tightened his lips and applied perfect suction to Derek's entire fucking length. His throat contracted around Derek's tip, and he almost had to back off.

Too much. Too good. 

"You're going to suck me until I come," Derek said, ignoring how shaky his voice sounded.

It was easy enough to do when all he could focus on was the way Stiles' eyes, locked on his, dilated. The way blood rushed to Stiles' cheeks. The way his scent spiked and his heartbeat nearly tripped in his chest. 

"After I come, I'm going to fuck you with that toy. And when you can't last another second? You're going to tell me." Derek's voice sounded like it was filled with rocks; he'd cough to clear it, but he was too close to the edge for any extra movement. A jolt, a sigh, a fucking shift in the air around him and he'd lose it.

His balls were already drawing up tight, his stomach contracting. It was force of will alone that held back his orgasm long enough to say through gritted teeth, "When you can't hold out anymore, I'm going to open _my_ mouth. And you're going to fuck it."

The mere thought of Stiles coming on his tongue, down his throat, was the last straw. Derek yanked on Stiles' hair at the same time as he thrust his hips forward, holding Stiles' head steady as his cock pulsed down his throat.

Releasing his grip on Stiles' hair, Derek dragged one shaking finger down the soft skin of Stiles' cheek. He collected a mix of come and spit that was dripping from the corner of Stiles' mouth and brought it to his own lips, sucked it onto his tongue. He swallowed, and felt Stiles do the same around his softening cock.

With a shaky sigh, he stepped back and watched while Stiles stood, stumbling once.

Stiles pulled out a drawer on the bedside table, removing a bottle of lube. Tossing it at Derek, he said, voice rough and scratchy, "Get it slick. I don't need stretching."

_Fuck._

"Maybe I want to get my fingers up inside you," Derek said, his cock giving a feeble twitch where it was nestled against the vee of his opened jeans. "Maybe I want to smell you all the way home. Wrap my fingers around myself and get my dick all covered in your scent. Fall asleep sucking on them."

Stiles stumbled again, his pants shoved half-off, tangled around his knees. His dick curved high, glistening, flushed a darker shade of red than the dildo that still lay on the mattress. 

Derek picked it up, giving it a considering look. "Or maybe I'll take this home with me. A consolation prize, since I can't take you."

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, stepping on the ends of his pants and yanking his legs free. "You gonna fuck yourself with it? After you've used it to fuck me to the breaking point? Fall asleep with it tucked up tight inside you?"

Jesus, fuck, that hadn't been what he was thinking, but now it was all he _could_ think about. 

Foregoing words, he snapped off the lid of the lube and drizzled it over the dildo, using so much it squelched between his fingers when he smoothed it in, and dripped down his hand to his wrist. 

Stiles licked his reddened lips and flopped back on the bed, legs spread wide. "Come on, then," he said, eyebrow cocked tauntingly. "Come and get me."

Slowly Derek knelt on the bed, watching Stiles like prey that was about to jump and run. He licked his lips, tasting a hint of Stiles on them from earlier. 

Stiles smirked, like he knew. Like he knew what he did to Derek. Like he thought he'd _tamed_ Derek. Like he'd won.

That would never do.

Dropping his head, Derek licked a long, slow stripe from below Stiles' hole, up his taint, over his balls and along the line of his dick, collecting all the flavors of Stiles as he went. When he looked up, Stiles was staring back, mouth open, chest heaving as he gasped. His tongue gleamed wetly behind the line of his teeth.

This time when Derek dipped down between Stiles' thighs, he pointed his tongue and thrust it straight through the loosened circle of Stiles' rim. A noise punched out of him when Stiles' ass fluttered around his tongue, but it was okay; it was fine. Because Stiles' own shout drowned it out.

"Derek! Fuck! You have to—"

Derek sealed his lips to Stiles' ass, undulating his tongue as he sucked, hooking the tip of it on the inside of Stiles' rim. Like a kid licking the inside of a jar of icing to get the last lingering taste.

"Oh god, oh god. Fuck me now. I'm not gonna..."

Derek pulled back with a last little suckle, taking a moment to delight in the way Stiles' hole fluttered for him. He rolled his tongue in his mouth, savoring the heady taste of Stiles even as Stiles' scent grew thicker in the air. Rubbing the head of the dildo over the still-open, greedy little hole he'd just had his tongue in, Derek asked, "Ready?"

"Yesyesyes...ahhhnn! Derek!" 

Derek leaned forward, putting his face right in Stiles' as he pushed the dildo, in one smooth glide, straight to the hilt. When it could go no further, when Derek's wrist was nudged up against the back of Stiles' thigh, he stopped and just _twisted_ , oh so slightly.

Stiles' hands came around the back of Derek's neck, his ragged, bitten-off fingernails digging into the skin as he breathed through his mouth, every gust a low moan. 

And Derek watched him, watched those beautiful eyes, watched Stiles fall apart. With every slow roll of his wrist, Stiles broke again. 

Derek leaned forward, letting his own parted lips hover just above Stiles open mouth. He tasted the warm air that rushed past Stiles' tongue but didn't move closer. Didn't turn it into the kiss Stiles was begging for with his eyes, his flickering tongue.

When the breath hitched in the back of Stiles' throat, and a noise of warning broke in the air, Derek slid down and swallowed the entire length of Stiles' cock. 

Stiles went utterly silent, his entire body bowing as he came with a jerk down Derek's throat. 

Derek swallowed the first few pulses, then eased back to capture the last drops on his tongue. He wanted to save it, roll it around his mouth, push it against his palate and _savor_ it. He pushed Stiles' loose-limbed leg to the side and eased the dildo from his ass. Bringing it up, he gave a faint sniff as he swallowed the last of Stiles' come. Yeah. _Delicious._

"Kinda gross, dude." Stiles' foot eased down his side, drawing Derek's attention. "Also, you're still dressed." His eyebrows drew together like he wanted to pout but couldn't find the energy.

Tilting his head, Derek looked down at himself. He looked almost more debauched than Stiles, if it was possible. His mostly hard dick was hanging from the opened fly of his jeans, his shirt rucked up around his waist. 

"You're..." Stiles gestured at Derek's dick. "You could fuck me," he offered, licking his lips. "Give me a minute, and I could go again."

Derek shrugged, tucked his cock tight against his body, and carefully raised the zipper on his jeans. He pushed the tab flat, locking it into place. The button he left undone, if for no other reason than because Stiles was greedily staring at the flap of denim and the flushed head of Derek's cock that peeked from behind it.

"Later," Derek said, picking up the dildo. He tugged his shirt down low over his waistband and walked to the window. 

Stiles made a noise, obviously frustrated. "Why later? _When_ later?"

Derek lifted the window and paused, considering. "When you're desperate. When you haven't just come twice in one night. When you're tight and needy instead of loose and relaxed. When you trip over your tongue to beg me for it." He lifted one leg over the window sill, wincing at how that movement pinched his dick in his jeans. Looking over his shoulder at Stiles, he took in the picture of him, sex-flushed and sated. "Yeah," he said. "Later."

Derek was off the roof, flat-footed on the ground when he heard Stiles' teasing last words. "Oh, Derek. I think we both know you'll be the first to beg."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was trying to start this part, looking for a decent transition between part one and part two (like you do), when Derek was all, "ooh, ohh, I have an idea! The last part was all about how Stiles smells! Let's talk about his everything else!"
> 
> 600 words of Derek rhapsodizing about Stiles later, I remembered that, oh yeah. _All of Derek's ideas are horrible._
> 
> So I cut those words out of the fic, threw them on tumblr, and slapped Derek with a dildo. Or something. Because I'm the ~~Alpha~~ author!
> 
> For anyone who might be half-way interested, those words are here: [Derek's thoughts re: Stiles' physical perfection](http://eeyore9990.tumblr.com/post/66663004186/dereks-thoughts-re-stiles-physical-perfection).
> 
> (There was gonna be more about his voice. Yeah. Thank god I stopped that shit when I did.)
> 
> (Also, I do not get tumblr. At all. Please do not make fun of my geriatric ways.)


	3. The Return of the Dildo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, this wasn't going to have a third chapter. I was always content with the end of the fic being, y'know, Chapter 2. But then Stiles, that little shit, knocked on my brain and was all, "Umm, hey, dildos aren't cheap. I'd kinda like it back since you're apparently not going to let me have sex ever."
> 
> And then I felt bad because he's right. Sex toys, man. So expensive.
> 
> So yeah. This happened.

Derek was paying the delivery guy for his pizza a week later when a familiar scent began to tease his senses. He turned his head, body tightening in an instinctive fight or flight response when he saw Stiles sauntering down the hallway, one hand shoved into the pocket of his red skinny jeans.

"Hey, Greenberg," Stiles said, clapping the delivery guy on the back as he slipped around him, pressing chest to chest against Derek and sliding slowly sideways before falling into the apartment. 

Derek blinked at the delivery guy, accidentally thrust a twenty instead of a five at him for a tip, and then slammed the door in his face. "Stiles," he said, turning with the pizza box in his hands, held in front of him like a shield for his sanity. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, see, it's been a week, asshole. And dildos are neither cheap nor easy to replace when your dad's the sheriff of a small town. I had to call in favors from some connections the first time around, and if I ask the girls for more so soon after I got my first toy, I'll never hear the end of it." Stiles took the pizza from Derek's nerveless fingers, tossing it on the small island that separated his kitchen from his living room.

The jealousy that settled uncomfortably in Derek's stomach twisted up into an ugly knot inside him, which was his only excuse for what came out of his mouth next. "Maybe you should get the girls to take care of your dick, then, instead of—"

"Eww, no." Stiles' nose wrinkled up, and he pushed forward, moving into Derek's space even as he said, "Not that they aren't completely awesome, but for one, I'm pretty sure they're all _way_ older than me, and two, as lovely as they are, the drag queen thing really isn't my kink, you know?"

Derek hid his relief behind a scowl. "Drag queens? Jesus, Stiles, the girls from the club? That's who bought the dildo for you?"

"Yeah, I mean... Aww." Stiles' confused expression morphed into one of unholy glee that Derek instinctively backed away from. "You thought, what? Allison and Lydia? No, dude. I've outgrown my obsession with strawberry blond princesses."

Snorting his disbelief, Derek rolled his eyes and said, "Oh really? When did _that_ happen?"

"Right about the time a scruffy, leather-wearing werewolf started climbing into my room and jacking off on my bed. Why are you running away from me, Derek? I'm just a weak little human, right? Nothing to be afraid of."

It wasn't until Stiles pointed it out that Derek realized he was still slowly backing away. From Stiles. He stopped immediately, grinding his teeth as he glared across the handful of feet separating them. "If anyone should be afraid, it's you, Stiles."

But Stiles just grinned, that wicked curve of lip that said he was about to do something stupid. "I've never run away in my life. You should know that by now." Taking advantage of Derek's stubborn insistence on holding his ground, Stiles sidled right up to him, sliding one hand around the back of his neck as he leaned into Derek and whispered, "I haven't touched myself today. Not even once. I didn't yesterday either."

Derek groaned and dropped his head forward, bouncing it off Stiles' shoulder. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Yeah," Stiles breathed, lips skimming Derek's ear. Stiles' hands slid down inside the back of Derek's sweats, cupping his ass and yanking until their hips were pressed tightly together, trapped dicks caught between grinding bodies. "Yeah, you should do that."

Derek turned his head, feeling the pull against his cheek as his scruff scratched over the pale line of Stiles' throat. Lips opening above the frantic rushing of Stiles' pulse, he teased his tongue out to taste before asking, his voice rough, "Do what?"

"Fuck me."

Derek's lips curved, even as he surrendered to the inevitable. His blood pounded through his veins, satisfaction at what was to come turning him cocky. "Say please," he growled, teeth scraping along the thick tendon in Stiles' throat.

"What? You want me to beg and think I won't? Dude, it wouldn't be the first time I got on my knees for you." Stiles massaged the globes of Derek's ass, his fingers sliding firmly down the cleft of his ass and pressing against his hole.

Derek jerked forward with a whine, a drawn out plea that was a barely coherent version of Stiles' name. Heat flushed his entire body red as lust roared through him, stealing his breath and causing him to rut helplessly against Stiles. 

"Bed," he grunted, and it echoed around his skull, _bed....bed...bed..bed.bedbed._

"Wall," Stiles moaned. "Door, couch, floor, refrigerator. Fuckit. Stove with the goddamn burners on, just fuck me already!"

Derek caught Stiles under his thighs and lifted, walking them both through the apartment while Stiles tried to coordinate his limbs enough to get his legs wrapped around Derek's waist. 

"God." Stiles' mouth on Derek's ear was enough to make him hurry, his breath warm and moist as he made little guttural noises every time Derek took a step. "Why did you wait? Why didn't you...?" His words died on a high pitched whine as Derek propped them against the wall just outside his bedroom, giving in to the urge to grind his hips against Stiles'.

"Because," he said into Stiles' open, panting mouth. "Once I have you in my bed, we're not leaving until—" 

Stiles' tongue slid into his mouth, blocking his words and making him groan at the sweet flavor he'd tried so hard to forget. A shiver went through Derek when he realized he was _never_ going to get his fill of Stiles; he was an addict now and his drug was this too-smart, mouthy, utterly fearless kid.

"I hate you so much," he growled, ripping his mouth from Stiles' to finish the journey to his bed because like _fuck_ was he going to do this against the wall.

Stiles just laughed, head thrown back with it, throat bared and so fucking tempting. Shaking with need, Derek dropped Stiles in the middle of his bed and said, "You have ten seconds to get naked or I'm ripping those fucking pants off of you. Your choice." And then he pushed his own sweats to his ankles along with his underwear, his shirt ripping in his haste to get it off. Stepping out of the material pooled at feet, Derek pounced on Stiles, who was still struggling to push his jeans to mid-thigh. "Ten," he growled.

"Holy shit, pretty sure that was like _two_ , but fuck if I care. Skinny jeans are so last season," Stiles said between gasping breaths, his eyes bright as he lifted his hips in a silent invitation.

Derek didn't stop to question it, just backed away long enough to grab the jeans by the bottom and tugged them off, nearly yanking Stiles from the bed in the process. 

Stiles laughed, a sound Derek wanted to bottle and keep forever, scooting back up the bed and tugging his shirt off. "Sorry, I can't 'argh, Hulk!' mine like you can."

Beyond words, Derek just shook his head and stared. The entire, lean length of Stiles' body was damn near luminous against his sheets, his cock and upper chest flushed red from arousal. Derek didn't even bother with the niceties, just crawled between Stiles' splayed legs and immediately sucked his cock down his throat. His fingers dug into the sheets as the flavor and scent of Stiles flooded his brain. He'd almost conditioned his body to associate that smell with his own pleasure, so it didn't surprise him when, mere seconds after gagging himself on the head of Stiles' cock, he was himself dripping into the sheets.

"God, Derek!" Stiles shouted, his whole body arching off the mattress. "Not gonna last. Not gonna..."

Derek sucked harder, dragging his fingers from the sheets to wind them under Stiles' thighs and lift, draping Stiles' legs over his shoulders so he could get more. Closer. He wanted to crawl inside Stiles through his dick, chase that flavor to the source.

Long fingers wound in his hair, rudely pushing and pulling on his head as Stiles' hips bucked awkwardly against him, forcing his cock deep and deeper until Derek couldn't even draw a breath. But who needed to breathe? It was obviously overrated.

When Stiles came, the friction of the sheets against his dick and the sight, sound, smell, and taste of Stiles combined to send Derek tumbling over the edge of orgasm a heartbeat or two later. They lay there, Stiles' legs twitching against his back while Derek tried to remember how to breathe. 

"That better," Stiles said, then paused, a shudder wracking his body. "That better not be all. I came to get fucked. I expect you to fuck me."

Lifting his head, Derek stared up the length of the body spread lax beneath his and locked gazes with Stiles before dipping his head and licking purposefully over the head of Stiles' cock. "That was just to take the edge off," he promised, his voice wrecked. "Since you interrupted my dinner, I plan to eat _you_ instead. Unless," he said, cocking his head to the side, "you think you can't handle it."

"Oh, fuck you, I can handle anything you've got," Stiles said, sitting up and grabbing for Derek, who coordinate his limbs enough to crawl up the bed.

As soon as he got close enough, Stiles met him in an open-mouthed kiss, sucking at his tongue and licking into his mouth, chasing the flavor that Derek had been savoring. Noise passed from one to the other as their bodies slid together, stirring their arousal once more.

"Roll over," Derek broke free long enough to demand. "I wanna..." He didn't have time to finish before Stiles was ass up on the bed.

"Yeah," Stiles moaned, face flushed and hair a mess as he turned his head on the pillow, eyes tracking Derek's every movement. 

"Can I—"

"Anything. I don't care. I swear to god, you could want to shove a pinecone up there at this point and I'd just ask for more. Whatever you want. Just fucking _do it_ already."

So Derek did it. Working his way down Stiles' back, from the nape of his neck, along the bumps of his spine, Derek zeroed in on Stiles' ass, leaving shallow bite marks in the flesh before he spread the cheeks with his thumbs and began lapping at his hole. 

Stiles muffled a scream into the pillow, but Derek was beyond caring about the noises Stiles made. All he could think of was getting his tongue deeper, opening Stiles wider, preparing the way for his dick. 

When his mouth and chin were wet with saliva, Derek paused long enough to root under his pillow for the lube he'd started stashing there. It was almost too easy to slide in the first finger after his tongue had so thoroughly prepared the way. But he lingered, licking around the opening, tugging on the rim with his finger, _playing_ with Stiles' ass like it was his job.

It wasn't until Stiles was brokenly sobbing for more that Derek relented, easing another finger in beside the first. The heated clench of Stiles' ass added urgency to his own need, and Derek began stretching him in earnest. When three fingers became four, he stared down, lips parted in awe as he played with the tautly stretched rim with his thumb.

Derek considered it, visualized tucking his thumb into his fingers and pushing his whole hand in, but his cock gave a throb of protest and he sighed, backing off. He looked up, took in the sight of Stiles, completely wrecked before they'd really begun, and then changed his mind.

He wanted to see him, look into those bright eyes when he finally fucked him. Reaching down, he effortlessly flipped Stiles over and then lifted until Stiles was sitting up on Derek's thighs, his legs on either side of Derek's waist. 

The new position seemed to spark something in Stiles because he growled and threw himself at Derek, long limbs wrapping around Derek's body. With one roll of his hips, he caught the tip of Derek's cock on his stretched ass and sank down, ripping a shout from Derek.

The tight, hot squeeze of Stiles' body was almost too much. Derek sucked and bit at Stiles' throat to distract himself, focusing on the clench of Stiles' fingers in the muscle of his back instead. 

Three deep, ragged breaths helped center him and when he was able to pull his mouth away from Stiles' neck, he looked to make sure Stiles wasn't hurt. But the expression on Stiles' face was Derek's new favorite view. It was slack with pleasure, his lips parted, eyes almost closed but for the merest slit as his eyelids trembled. 

"Derek," Stiles whispered, a tiny breath of sound. And then he shifted and his eyes flew open wide, pupils dilated in aroused shock. 

Watching Stiles intently, Derek slid his hands under Stiles' ass and slowly raised him, shudders wracking his own body as the hot clench of Stiles' ass dragged over his length. Stiles' breathing hitched with every slow bump of his cock over Derek's abs, his fingers tensing and relaxing their hold on Derek. When only the head of his cock remained in Stiles' body, Derek let go, allowing gravity to slam them back together, ripping shouts of pleasure from each of them.

Derek spread his thighs wide, providing more stability for them, and then started fucking up into Stiles with abandon. It was exhausting and exhilarating and there were several times he had to wrap his arms around Stiles to slow him down before they got a solid rhythm going. 

It wasn't going to last long, even after they'd both already come once. This was too heated, too desperate for a long, slow fuck. Trapped between their bellies as it was, the friction on Stiles' cock had him choking back sobbing gasps from the very first thrust. By the time he came again, he sounded like he'd spent the last hour running for his life.

Derek was all too familiar with that particular sound.

The fluttering of his ass around Derek's cock was almost too much, had Derek gritting his teeth against the need to come himself. But he held back, wanting more, wanting this to last forever if he was only going to get this once.

Stiles slumped forward, catching Derek off guard, his weight forcing them backward until Derek was splayed on his back, knees and thighs protesting the awkward fall. Stiles' breath gusted over Derek's neck as he slowly pulled himself back together, his ass clenching around Derek's still-hard cock. 

Pushing himself up, Stiles sat upright, grinding against Derek until Derek began to slowly fuck up into him, chasing his own orgasm while trying to make sure Stiles wasn't too sensitive. Stiles reached a shaking hand down, swiping up the come from his belly. 

Derek's mouth fell open and a pleading noise escaped as his eyes tracked Stiles' glistening fingers.

But Stiles just shook his head and said, "Not this time." His nail beds blanched white from the pressure as he dug his fingers into Derek's chest, spreading his come around. "Mine. No more Kate Argents. No more evil English teachers. No more random hook ups. You're _mine_ ," Stiles said through gritted teeth, his eyes as fierce as his words. As primitive.

And the part of Derek that lived in the moonlight responded, his vision edging in shades of gunmetal grey as his fangs dropped and his claws lengthened. Flipping them, he snapped his hips forward, driving ruthlessly into Stiles. "Say it." The words were barely English. Barely _human_ , even. But instead of flinching in fear, Stiles strained against Derek's hold, so eager to get closer that he was whining low in his throat. "Say it again."

"Mine!" Stiles bit out, his blunt teeth flashing in the dim lighting.

That single word made Derek throw his head back in a howl of completion, his orgasm ripped from him in long, gut wrenching spurts. He fucked into Stiles until his dick grew too soft—and too sensitive—to continue. Then he used his fingers, scooping up the few dribbles of come that were leaking from Stiles' loosened hole and shoving them back in.

Scrabbling at his bedside table with the hand not occupied filling Stiles' ass, Derek felt for and found the dildo that had started this whole thing. Lifting it, he waited until Stiles was tracking it with his eyes before he smirked and began to gently push it into Stiles' body. The come and left over lube helped smooth the way, but he could tell by the way Stiles' breath hitched he could still feel the burn.

"There," Derek murmured, kissing his way up Stiles' chest. "Gave it back."

"You can borrow my toys anytime," Stiles said with a gasp as Derek began sucking on the skin over his collarbone. "If this is your idea of returning them."

"You're all the toy I need." Derek lost interest in Stiles' collarbone, turning his attention to the bruise that was forming on Stiles' throat even as Stiles went perfectly stiff underneath him.

The stillness didn't last long enough to worry Derek, though the peals of laughter were a bit much. Pulling back with a disgruntled frown, Derek asked, "What?"

"You," Stiles gasped, "are a giant _sap_. Oh my god, do you watch rom coms? You have all the Twilight books hidden under your bed, don't you? Am I going to come over one day and find rose petals all over the place?"

Derek rolled his eyes and kissed Stiles quiet, though he could do nothing to stop the way Stiles' body continued to shake with silent laughter. Or maybe... He reached between Stiles' legs and twisted the end of the dildo, letting loose his own laughter at how well that worked to shut the idiot up.

"You were saying?"

"Hnnngh!"

"That's what I thought."

The pizza was stone cold by the time they got around to eating it, but neither of them cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this was written while waiting in an airport in Japan for our flight that kept getting cancelled and/or delayed. Yay. Productivity. Go me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys? Do an image search for Water Deer.
> 
> Fuckin' were-deer. That shit exists IRL.


End file.
